


Turn the Hours Back

by HorriblyHistorical



Series: Barrissoka Snippets [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (minor! mostly implied I think?), Abuse of italics, Canon Compliant, F/F, Femslash February, Gen, Gen if you squint, I'm so sorry, Imprisonment, Mild Angst, Oops, Prison Food, Self-Harm, post temple bombing, quick and dirty ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9571487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorriblyHistorical/pseuds/HorriblyHistorical
Summary: What is done is not easily undone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Haaa. So I got the prompt “Hypnosis” off of [this generator](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator) and you know that tumblr post going around about how Obi-Wan’s first words were an attempted Force Suggestion to make Mace Windu give him more cookies at snack time? This was supposed to be like that.
> 
> Kinda cute, vaguely fluffy …
> 
> It did not turn out like that.
> 
> I’m sorry.
> 
> \---  
> Unbeta'd, written in about an hour, concrit welcomed in the comments.

Ahsoka’s gaze was getting …

Getting …

Barriss frowned slightly. Unsettling might technically be a correct descriptor, but surely reflected her own tension more than Ahsoka’s intention.

Intense, she settled on eventually.

She let her eyes dart to her friend before dropping them back to her half-finished meal. This was new. Unusual. Normally Ahsoka filled the air with noise. With polite chitter and empty reassurances that made Barriss’s heart pound in the cage of her ribs.

Her stomach roiled and her face felt strange. Too hot but also somehow chilled.

A guard coughed.

Barriss couldn’t help it.

She glanced up again.

Ahsoka was still staring.

“Pudding,” her friend – ex-friend? _Ahsoka_ said in a flat drone.

“What?”

Barriss couldn’t help it. It’d taken three weeks but she’d broken her silence.

“ _You want to give me your pudding_.” Ahsoka’s hand glided through the air as if pushing an invisible objection aside. A Force Suggestion - except the entire detention block was under a Suppression field.

A startled laugh burst out of Barriss’s chest, forced its way through her shoulders and landed between them – _splat_ – like the stodgy grey tubers that made up most of her lunch.

“You want my shitty prison pudding?”

Ahsoka shrugged. “I figure it’s like hospital food. It’s got a bad rap but have you had the stuff in the med-bay?” She continued before Bariss could reply with a derisive ‘ _obviously_ ’ – like anyone had escaped the war uninjured. “It’s pretty good.”

Barriss’s bared her teeth suspiciously. “Is this some kind of stupid metaphor?”

“Nope!” Ahsoka grinned back and wrinkled her nose. “So can I have some?”

With a loud sigh and a jangle of cuffs Barriss pushed the tray across the table. The skin of her wrists – bones more prominent every day it seemed – was turning the sallow, bruised shade of unripe fruit from repeated contact between hard metal and fragile joints.

Discreetly, with Ahsoka’s focus on the wobbly blue dessert, she wrapped left hand around right wrist and squeezed. The pain helped. Her pulse slowed.

The world steadied around her.

She hadn’t been discreet enough - Ahsoka twined their fingers together without even looking up. “We’ll get you out of here, you know,” she said in an utterly casual tone. Like she wasn’t proposing a complete impossibility. “When you don’t have to do that anymore.”

Barriss’s eyes burned.

But that was nothing unusual these days.

Ahsoka licked her lips with a careful frown. “I like it,” she declared. “Even if you can taste the bantha.”

Barriss shot to her feet and wrenched her hand free in the same motion.

“ _Out_!” she shouted. “Get out!”

The guards were on her before she could say more. They wrestled her to the ground and she delighted in the pain caused by the thrashing of her limbs. Pain to the guards, to herself, to Ahsoka as those pretty blue eyes went wide in shock.

It wouldn’t be enough – she’d be back tomorrow, and the day after, and every day until the war devoured them all – but at least this time Ahsoka hadn’t had a chance to say it. To squeeze her hand and say she was loved.

It wasn’t enough.

It could never be enough.

A Jedi didn’t simply _un_ -Fall.


End file.
